


Laugh Lines

by iamfitzwilliamdarcy



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Gen, Vader lives AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 08:35:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13520553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamfitzwilliamdarcy/pseuds/iamfitzwilliamdarcy
Summary: It’s been a long time since Anakin has heard anyone laugh. (Immediately Post-ROTJ; Vader lives AU)





	Laugh Lines

It’s not supposed to be a long flight back to Endor and Luke’s...companions, but there’s something wrong with the ship. 

“We’ll get there,” Luke tells him, wiping a hand across his brow and leaving grease smeared near his blonde hair. He throws himself in the co-pilot seat. “It’ll just take a while. Slow going.”

Luke’s been back and forth, fixing whatever’s wrong and checking on him. He’s wary enough that Vader—Anakin, he can be Anakin again—is piloting. Not so much, Anakin thinks, because Luke doesn’t trust him but because he’s—

Well, old. Incapacitated. He knows how he looks, and Luke just barely managed to keep his respirator working. 

He should be dead. They should all be dead. 

But he flies as well as he ever has and he’d take a look at the mechanics that’s giving Luke problems if Luke himself weren’t so skilled that Vader trusted him to do it himself. And anyway, moving into cramped spaces isn’t exactly easy for him. 

“Guess it’s just you and me,” Luke says. 

“Yes,” Anakin manages. He wants to let Luke take over the controls because he can’t stop himself from stealing glances at the boy. His boy. 

(If he looks away, he might disappear. If he keeps looking, he’d look forever.)

But Luke’s leaning back, arms behind his head, eyes fluttered close. He’s not asleep, but Anakin can see the exhaustion under his eyes. 

Anakin almost wishes he would sleep. The silence spanning between them is awkward. They’ve had their turmoil, physical, emotional, every draining thing that exists in a person beyond that, and now that it’s over, there’s nothing but normal left. 

As if either of them knew what normal was. 

“It’s weird, huh?” Luke says. He opens his eyes and watches Anakin’s hands on the control. “Just us here, I mean. After all these years.” He pauses and smiles a little before adding, “Obi-Wan told me you were an excellent pilot.”

Anakin’s hands tighten on the controls. “Obi-Wan was never much for flying.” 

“No,” Luke agrees easily. 

He reaches his own prosthetic hand out to rest next to the controls, watching the metal all work, with a frown creased into his brow. 

Anakin, decidedly, does not wince. He shifts, uncomfortable, his own eyes tracking the hand. Says, “I did not realize that could be hereditary.” 

It startles a laugh out of Luke, which in turn surprises Anakin. He chances a look at his son. Luke meets his gaze with his wide, surprised eyes. 

“You’re making fun of me,” Luke says, like he can’t quite believe it. Then he laughs again. It bubbles out of him until he throws his head back and his shoulders shake. 

It’s been a long time since Anakin has heard anyone laugh. A real laugh, not one of Palpatine’s, so smug and self-satisfied. It untwists something inside him and he relaxes a little. Manages a little smile back. 

He may have Anakin’s coloring, he realizes, but Luke favors Padme when he laughs like that. Anakin is suddenly on Naboo, again, at the Lake rolling in the grass, he’s with her dancing in her apartments after they’re married, her sneaking smiles at him across meetings, when she’s supposed to be listening and he’s supposed to be anywhere but there.

Anakin reaches his hand out on instinct but draws back at the last minute. His hands are not his own, his son he has never truly known, he doesn’t deserve—

Luke notices. He reaches out instead, his real hand navigating past the respirator to rest on Anakin’s cheek, flesh on flesh, soft despite the callouses, warm. 

“Father,” Luke says, grinning up at him. “I needed that. Thank you.” 

Anakin looks down at Luke and smiles, real, true, big, genuine. And then, he laughs.


End file.
